


The ghosts of her past

by Beezarre



Category: Holby City
Genre: Adrienne Campbell (mentioned), Elinor Campbell (mentioned), F/F, Ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25186342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beezarre/pseuds/Beezarre
Summary: Serena has been spending more and more time drifting off into her past, awaking ghosts Bernie alone can see.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	The ghosts of her past

**Author's Note:**

> Set at a time when nothing stands in the way, obviously post-Elinor’s death. When you choose to believe that is is entirely up to you ;)
> 
> One day I’ll stop writing about ghosts. Today is not that day.

Serena had this look in her eyes. The look Bernie had long since learnt to recognise, gone too far down memory lane, only half there, if that. It wasn’t always a sad look, but it never failed to stir something in Bernie, this need she had to first of all protect her, but also simply care for her. When Serena was this far gone there was little she could do other than wrapping her in something warm in much the same way the memories were wrapped around her, waiting for Serena to talk if she wished to. She didn’t, more often than not. 

In those moments of silence Bernie could feel the ghosts of her own past well at bay, ghosts she’d have shared if it wasn’t for this tendency Serena had to let her own past steal her away. It hadn’t been that flagrant before Elinor’s death, maybe now more of those barely-there memories were of her, a toddler playing in the garden, a young teen throwing a tantrum in the kitchen. The whole place was full of memories. Serena said she didn’t mind. Part of Bernie did. 

It wasn’t that she minded not being a part of those memories, they’d met too late to have made enough for Serena to lose herself into, at least in her mind. What she minded was that feeling of being a guest in that house, amongst the memories. The pictures of her children had found their place amongst those of the Campbell family, yet they stood out. More than a guest, Bernie sometimes felt like a ghost, like she could almost pass through doors without opening them. It was almost like, if she concentrated hard enough, she could see the others.

She didn’t entirely believe in ghosts, not the poltergeist type anyway. She knew the tricks memory could play though, knew how dangerous living in the past could be. When she held Serena’s hand in those moments, she’d often get a faint smile, but she couldn’t be sure the woman she loved was smiling at her. Those memories could be vivid enough that Bernie could almost see them without Serena sharing a word. 

There was a history in her family, a history she thought she’d broken, of that kind of thing. But Bernie had always believed herself bad at reading people, ruled things out as coincidences. The more time she spent, sitting by or opposite her partner, the more she wondered whether there wasn’t something there.

Serena was only ever like that with her, or alone she supposed. Bernie wondered, sometimes, if her children would feel the same way she did, the bubble ready the burst, the presence haunting the room. Maybe she’d just had a long day. But there were fewer long days than there were days when Serena drifted, and sometimes Bernie was afraid she wouldn’t get her back.

She’d always ignored her mother’s and aunt’s warning, more so her grandmother’s. The family gift came at a price. Having believed for the longest time that it had, at best, skipped a generation, Bernie had ignored it. Now she wished she’d listened. Buried into the couch, only visible from the waist up, she could see Elinor over Serena’s shoulder. Her image was faint, no smile on her face. She wasn’t sad or angry, only expressionless. Bernie knew Serena wouldn’t see what she saw, knew the image she saw was that of a ghost long gone. 

She watched as it moved, Serena shivering as Elinor’s hand touched her hair. There were tears in Bernie’s eyes, tears she knew Serena wouldn’t see. Then Elinor was there, words echoing in Bernie’s mind without her lips opening. Help her... How could she help someone tear herself from her past when it meant so much to her? 

There was a shadow behind Elinor’s shoulder, trying to be there, struggling to make a space for itself. An older ghost, anchored only by Elinor’s presence. It took a while but Adrienne’s traits soon became visible. She wasn’t gone like Elinor was, only using her granddaughter, presumably at peace, to drag herself back in. The hatred on her face said it all. Bernie wasn’t sure exactly who it was aimed at, wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She inched closer to Serena, wrapping her arms around her with a kiss in her hair, and felt the two presences fade.

“Are you alright?”

Serena shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Aren’t you supposed to only remember the good things?” Serena’s voice was unusually quiet yet high, still half grasped by the memories that had shaken her. Childhood memories, Bernie supposed.

“No. You remember the things that most made you into who you are.” Bernie paused, then whispered. “You know that better than anyone.”

“I should start writing all of those down, even if I have no one to pass them down to anymore. Maybe it would make the ghosts go away.”

“Maybe it would.” Bernie was starting to think a trip to her mother’s grave might be overdue. She’d never seen her there, suspected her children had. Charlie was especially jumpy in graveyards, and Cam had been particularly shaken when he’d had to work in the morgue. She shouldn’t have ignored the signs.

“Sometimes I can’t tell whether I’m holding them back or whether they’re the ones holding me back.” Serena was out of her trance now, taking the last sip of her wine.

“Letting go of them isn’t going to make them go away.” Bernie had answered before she’d had the time to think, the words resonating strangely in the quiet room.

“I didn’t know you believed in ghosts.” Serena’s voice was level, but there was a hint of something there that Bernie couldn’t decipher.

“Or you.”

“When you lose a child, you’re ready to believe anything, at least for a while. At least that’s how it was for me.” Serena looked away. “I know how ridiculous that sounds, the idea of being comforted by… a presence.”

“It’s not ridiculous, it’s human.” If Elinor had been present before, Bernie had never seen her, but she couldn’t deny the fact that Serena’s house had felt… occupied for several months after Elinor’s death.

“What’s your excuse?” The question was a lighthearted one, but Bernie had no lighthearted answer. The truth of an ancestral ‘gift’ was one she didn’t wish to share, so she went for the other truth, the many times she’d had to ignore presences she knew were there.

“When you go to enough battlefields, as a medic, you start realising there are more people there than there are… living people.”

“How do you help?”

“You can’t. That’s the hardest thing to accept.” Mentioning it had been enough to trigger memories, blood, sand, and tears. Her voice was strained, her own tears threatening to spill. It was memories of moments like these that made her wish she had faith in something, anything. Having someone to pray to would have alleviated her burden, but the only things she had faith in was medicine and herself, and both were desperate in the face of death when that face grimaced like it did then.

“Bed?” Serena’s voice was soft, as soft as her lips on Bernie’s cheek, as real, solid. She was her anchor, in this world and in this city. Bernie only nodded, getting up and folding the cover she had draped over Serena’s shoulders, letting out a heavy sigh. 

“I’m sorry,” Serena said. Bernie turned toward her, puzzled. “For…” Serena waved at the space she’d occupied. “For disappearing, like this. It’s not fair to you. Not fair for me to revisit people long gone when I have you, there.” She hesitated for a moment. “Life taught me you never know how long you have, I learnt it the hard way. If I were to lose you tomorrow I’d want to have lived every second we had.” Serena’s voice was strained, and Bernie voiceless, unsure how to answer, surprised by the turn in conversation. All she could do was kiss her, words failing her, sensing the weight she hadn’t realised had built up on her shoulders lift somewhat. 

“I love you.” Those were the only words. Universal, they jumped the high walls of death itself with ease, spreading like colourful weeds in a barren field. Where hatred died out, love never wavered. Where there was love, there was hope. Where there was hope, there was a future. And if Death had Time itself for breakfast, well, Life only gave it away bit by bit. It made some promises hold truer than others. “For eternity.”


End file.
